Day 5: Fun Facts
Time for some crocodile facts.
1. Crocodiles can outrun you – even on land.
2. Crocodiles grow up to twenty feet long.
3. Crocodiles are surprisingly stealthy – most people who are attacked never see it coming.
4. The motors of some small boats make a noise that crocodiles find incredibly interesting.
5. Crocodiles don’t chew. They just rip bits off with their teeth. (On the up side, they drown you first.)
Sweet dreams, everyone!
Day 4: Flat Sharks
I visited New Zealand, and at Kelly Tarlton’s (in Auckland I think) I was able to go in the water with some sting rays – one of which was over a metre across and weighed rather a lot more than me.
(My excuse for blogging thsi today is that crocodiles and sting rays are linked via Steve Irwin.)
It was one of the most excellent experiences of my life. I learnt a little sting ray etiquette (don’t get in their way; if you step on them they will sting you by reflex ie they can’t help it) and went in. The sting rays, being familiar with the ritual (and the associated feeding), mobbed us. At one point I had two sting rays climbing me like puppies, one on my front and on on my back (both flapping as they tried to rise out of the water). Although I’m usually frightened of sea creatures, I LOVED being a sting ray sandwich.
Pregnant Pause
No, I’m not.
Eating (relatively) healthily has made me think about my future children a lot more – mainly because they’re an inspiring reason for me to practise being healthy. (If I’m not healthy, what chance do they have?)
One thing I like about marriage is that I’ve literally given my life to one person. All my big decisions are his big decisions too. All the good and bad things that happen to me happen to him (and vice versa). It bothers me that so much of my happiness hangs on him (is there anything less reliable than a human being?) Then again, I’ve always liked risk-taking. And I suspect I’d find my happiness again eventually if he suddenly vanished.
I love the idea of becoming a mother – is there anything more frightening, more important, or more overwhelming? As a storyteller, how could I resist? As a human heart, how could I turn away from the opportunity to pour everything I have into someone who is me-and-my-partner-but-also-different?
The cynical part of me thinks the urge to procreate is biological – nothing else. The opposite side of me thinks the urge to have children comes from an unfulfilled capacity to love more deeply. I’m pretty sure both are true.
There are a lot of frightening aspects – how will we cope financially? Will I be a horrible mum (being mentally ill can’t help)? What about all the pain in the world? What if something goes horribly wrong? What about the pain for me when they’re rejected or injured or unhappy?
I treasure the newlywed status of having no children. But I also treasure the sense of anticipation my partner and I share. What will I look like pregnant? How will this change the way we see the world? What will he or she smell like the first time I see my own child? What will they be like when they grow up?
Each month we celebrate our anniversary by doing something special – going out to dinner, having a picnic, seeing a movie, etc. This month we’re borrowing my 4-year old nephew and taking him to Questacon.
We need all the practice we can get.
Day 3: Diagram
Today’s plot is so complex I believe it requires a diagram.
Observant readers will clearly see the high-tension cable flinging human and attached crocodile into the air.
Those of an artistic bent will see much more. The billabong (that’s Australian for “pond”) has the characteristic Australian greenish hue, while the eucalyptus is the kind that turns pink in summer (overseas readers may not believe it, but there are some on my street*).
The narrator is coloured purple to represent the many colours of multicultural Australia. He and the crocodile both have blue eyes, which represents man’s close relationship to nature, and our global responsibility toward our planet.
The crocodile’s red teeth represent blood and gore as he clamps down on the narrator’s leg.
*Okay, they’re mostly white.
Day 2: Gory tale
If you have a sensitive disposition and a vivid imagination, you may not want to read this one (it’s not graphically written, so let’s call it a rather gentle PG rating):
On February 19, 1945, nine hundred Japanese soldiers retreated across a swamp in Burma. The swamp was sixteen kilometres wide and filled with saltwater crocodiles.
I bet you know where this is going.
Twenty soldiers were captured by the British. Five hundred escaped.
The remaining three hundred and eighty men were never seen again.
Day 1: Tourism
This entire story was inspired by the fact that the Northern Territory (that’s a particularly underpopulated state of Australia) has a tourist boom every time someone’s attacked by a crocodile.
Clearly, our tourism ads should be about snakes, spiders and prehistoric monsters, instead of Lara Bingle. (Well, actually, now I think of it. . .)
Had a great title, but forgot it
One of the things that has changed since I married is that I’ll almost definitely have kids one day. (When I had a two-month engagement, a lot of people thought I’d be having kids about 6 months after the wedding, which both amused and disturbed me – like so much in life.)
Watching “Torchwood” (written by seriously depressed types with an urge to convince the world how depressing it truly is), and the various horrible things that could, perhaps, happen to my kids some day (except, probably, for the alien bits) made me realise that I DON’T want to keep my kids safe. Not as a first priority, anyway. I want to teach them that they can handle anything. Absolutely anything. Death, murder, assault, broken hearts, debt, mental illness, their own worst failures – anything.
Of course, I’ll probably panic and lock them in a padded room from birth.
But the sentiment is there.
Paranoia Girl is so right
I emotionally crashed on Tueday. It was Australia Day, so my partner and I chose to celebrate our anniversary mainly on that day, with our traditional picnic, plus seeing “Sherlock Holmes” (which I reviewed over at http://twittertales.wordpress.com) and going and eating Chinese for dinner.
I freaked out for no reason around 11am, and stayed freaked out all day, unable to make basic decisions or generally enjoy the enjoyableness of the day. It sucked a lot.
But, setting aside my mentalness, I feel pretty good. My renewed peacefulness and excitement about God is still there (under the public crying and urges to pull out my own eyeballs). Today I bought loads of brightly-coloured booze for my birthday, and also didn’t eat my usual pile of chocolate. I had a milo, which is practically fasting for me. I keep a careful eye on my drinking, because (clearly) I have an addictive personality. Thus far, however, I can use small amounts of alcohol (like one or two standard drinks – strictly AFTER work) as a substitute for large amounts of lollies (like 300 grams).
Just now I wrote a short story (a tad desperately, since I REALLY need to finish a twittertale ready for February 1, and it isn’t happening). It’s not a happy tale (it’s white trash crime), but finishing a new story always makes me feel good, which generally leads to more writing.
I’m gonna go attempt a 7-day twittertale, just to buy myself some time.
First – more booze. (I predict a problem in the future. . . but it IS really good for switching off my editor side.)
Day 6: Complete Story
For the Man who has Everything
Sat 23 Jan
My beautiful new wife gave me the “Genuine Castaway Experience For The Man Who Has Everything But Happiness.” It’s so peaceful here!
*
Why won’t the monkeys stop screaming? I’m reminded of the days when I was still allowed to see my grandkids. Bad memories, as I now recall.
*
Drank fermented coconut milk and passed out. When I awoke and threw up, I knew I didn’t miss my youth after all. Epiphany after epiphany!
Sun 24 Jan
The “Genuine Castaway Experience” has given me a deep new gratitude for my life – especially coffee and my iphone.
*
Very glad the “Genuine Castaway Experience For The Man Who Has Everything But Happiness” only lasts three days. Food poisoning continues.
*
One more night with the monkey screams and belly cramps. My new wife’s very savvy for a twenty year old. After this, work will be heaven.
Mon 25 Jan
Too thirsty to sleep. Where’s my chopper? Stupid wind sounds just like helicopter blades.
*
Soon it’ll get dark. Did I count the days wrong? Mouth is dry as sand. Too weak to throw rocks at monkeys. Beginning to get less grateful.
*
“GENUINE Castaway Experience” they said. But they didn’t mean. . . they wouldn’t. . . would they? Poor Anna must be terrified for me.
Tue 26 Jan
Made an iphone out of coconuts. Called Anna for long talk. Felt much better until I realised I’d hallucinated the whole thing.
*
Anna will sort this out. She’s a smart girl. The blonde’s artificial, anyway. She’ll give that company what for!
My stubble itches.
*
Drank more coconut milk. Threw it up at once. Still better than the yellow choking bile of this morning. Legs covered in bug bites.
Wed 27 Jan
Tried to build a raft. Arms don’t work. Need a lie down, and a nice massage. Monkeys getting braver, and gnashing their teeth right at me.
*
Seawater isn’t like coffee at all.
*
Anna?
Th 28 Jan
. . . . . . .
THE END
Day 5: Thirst
Since our hero hasn’t found water, and it hasn’t rained, he’s in a certain amount of danger.
When I lived in Indonesia, I discovered that when Indonesians say “fasting” they mean no food AND no water (although usually a “day” of fasting is only three-quarters of a day). My friend Wibi (an Indonesian man) and I fasted for “three” days (actually fifty-five hours) at the beginning of 2001. (Katerina is an Australian staying at the same place, a provate dwelling.) Here’s what I wrote about it at the time (my doctor freaked out when I told her about it, because apparently it can permanently damage the stomach. That made me glad I’d so thoroughly prepared):
31 December 2000:
Wibi and I are fasting the next three days (it’s not actually three days; we’ll eat again on the third). I’ve drunk so much water in preparation that my pee looks like water.
1 January 2001:
I am coveting Katerina’s water bottle (she’s sitting next to me as I write so it’s probably about time for another Indo-speak lesson).
(later)
Yep. And she’s left her water here too. She’s gratuitously taken aback by my fasting. I feel pretty good actually, psyching myself up for the ominous ‘Second Day’. I’ve had a few cramps but my mouth feels mostly normal and though I’m weak I haven’t been thinking about food every second. Still, while I’m here. . .
Was craving apple an hour or two ago. Fresh cold peeled green apple. Mmm. . . but then I thought raw apple was probably a bad thing (too crunchy and hard) to end a fast with so I thought maybe apple juice. Fresh and strong in flavour and cold.
Any kind of fruit juice actually. I tend to get frustrated when I get nice drinks because water (though it’s often lukewarm, soapy or burnt in flavour) is something I can consume with no problems and the money would be better spent on food.
But I eventually settled on peeled green fresh apple grated juicily into a bowl with a heaped teaspoon of sugar. Sweet, easy on the stomach and also basically healthy: no better food to end a fast with.
I am home in two weeks today. I don’t need to put apples on my ‘special food’ list because we usually have apples in the fridge and I have grated apple whenever I want. Did I ever know before today the deliciousness of my life? It is so cool that food is so yummy. And there are so many types of food that I can never possibly try them all. (Uh. . . not that I want to.) I’m sure with a little effort I can find enough different types of healthy, tasty food to keep me satisfied for the rest of my life – even in Indo-land.
Tomorrow I will wake up desperately hungry and knowing that I will go to bed literally a day or two off death. And, if I’ve understood correctly, will spend most of the day in pain.
Okay, now I feel bad.
My stomach hurts. It’s hotter here than I’m used to – I looked at my travel clock and it’s been up to thirty degrees. I’m wearing my coolest clothes but feel sweatier than normal. Will not be eating or drinking till about midday Wednesday. We were eating and drinking till three this morning so I don’t feel too bad yet.
My body is a little achy and very lethargic and a minute ago I felt feverish. Tomorrow should be loads of fun.
2 January 2001:
I wonder which is more important, water or sleep? I suppose water but I’d rather do this than fast sleep because going without sleep you can’t. . . well, sleep. Which is the good thing about fasting Indo-style: We’re allowed to sleep pretty much whenever it’s not a prayer time (this family has prayer in the mornings which I enjoyed this morning although I was relieved when it was over after an hour). The bad thing is that ‘allowed’ doesn’t mean ‘able’. I can lie down though.
Food and water are painfully easy to get. Everything I think about seems to be coincidentally food related – when I shower or wash my hands after going to the ladies’ room (see, I can use euphemisms too) I look mournfully at the beautiful cold clear water and it helps only a little to remind myself it’s crawling with whole colonies and civilizations of micro organisms awaiting their chance to kill me and/or make the loo my permanent residence.
I feel okay now. Lying down as I write. Last night was unpleasant. The main problem was my stomach hurting. Not too bad but consistent all night long (I’m so glad it’s only two nights). Also felt so hot that after about 4:00am (when I heard rain and went to bring in everyone’s towels and a few clothes from outside) I slept on the floor. I’d set my alarm for ten to five for the morning prayer time. I went to the loo (fascinating medical fact: pee still quite clear. Maybe I’m not all that dehydrated and that’s why I’m not clutching my stomach in agony right about now). I know I slept at least for a bit because I had a nightmare that someone set my cat on fire.
A lot of people have been telling me how awful I look. I’ve been feeling feverish and took my temperature twice (midday and midarvo) and it was 101 degrees Fahrenheit – not a clue what that means.
I don’t feel sore really, but I feel like my stomach should be concave. Which it profoundly isn’t (even after recently losing thirteen kilos due to being here in Indo-land) although it seems a different shape now to what it was a few days ago. Also sometimes (especially when it does that bubbly rumble) I feel like my body is nosing around in my stomach. . . searching. And I’m getting weird pins and needles a lot.
Coconut milk tomorrow!!
3 January 2001:
Fascinating information: my stomach is flatter that it’s ever been. Strange but true: a flatter stomach in three days or less. No exercise! No special food! In fact, no food at all. Or drink. . .
Happy thought for the morning: I am now officially near death.
——————————–
Later: I felt pretty sick for several days afterward, which is normal for any kind of fasting. Since I drank coconut milk in combination with water and juice and food, it didn’t make me sick.
